


Vormir: Redux

by mypedia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, I fixed it, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypedia/pseuds/mypedia
Summary: It's funny how time works. (There's always a way.)AKA: that time where I fixed one of the Endgame deaths in a way that works with canon! And nobody else dies!Bit of a crackfic.





	Vormir: Redux

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still trying to figure out if there's a way I can write Tony back in, but. Sigh. Coming up empty so far.

“Explain this time travel to me,” Steve says. It comes out more of an order than he would have liked.

 

It’s fine. They’re all on edge. It’s been a day. And Steve’s not exactly keen to go back in time and lose the stones just because Bruce says so. Sue him.

 

“Look, you’re not changing your past, ever.” Bruce is ever patient, while Strange looks vaguely irritated, but that seems to be his normal demeanour. They’re in a post-funeral slightly-drunken haze, all of them sitting sprawled together in Tony’s living room. Bruce continues, “Any changes you make go off and create an alternate timeline, but _yours_ is still the same.”

 

“What if I killed my parents?” asks Steve.

 

Bruce is trying to draw it out with cheese and crackers on the coffee table. “New Cap-less timeline B gets created at that point, but you’d still be here, in your timeline A, with your same memories.”

 

“So if I had gone back and killed Thanos…” Rhodes purses his lips. “Aw, damn. No effect?”

 

“No effect for _us_ ,” Bruce corrects. “The snap would still happen in our timeline, but there would be a new timeline created where you did kill him and there wasn’t a snap.”

 

“So right now, we’ve created alternate timelines where they don’t have the stones,” Sam says.

 

“We?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

 

Sam scoffs. “Fine, they did, whatever. Let them take the credit for fucking up universal timelines, see if I care.”

 

Bruce wisely chooses to interject before they can begin an argument: “Yes, we’ve created alternate timelines where the stones are gone.” He turns to Cap, “And that’s why you’re going to put them back exactly where they were, so those alternate timelines are destroyed.”

 

There’s silence for a few moments. Then:

 

“Why can’t we go back and get Nat?” Clint demands. Laura places a soothing hand on his arm. “They got the green one back.”

 

“Gamora,” Rocket supplies.

 

Bruce sighs. “Gamora’s timeline splits in 2014. One version of her exists in our timeline where she was killed. There’s another timeline where she and Thanos both jumped here. He was killed and she stayed. Both of them effectively vanished in 2014 in their original timeline.”

 

Clint is persistent. “I don’t understand what that has to with Nat. We can go get her back.”

 

“From when, before the two of you get to Vormir?” Bruce looks a little frazzled, the way he always does when they’re not understanding his science.

 

(Tony was always better at putting it in layman’s terms, but Steve tries not to think about that).

 

“Yes.”

 

“Because… Listen, let’s say we’re timeline A.” Bruce is still trying his best to draw out timelines with cracker crumbs on the table. “Natasha’s dead for us. You go get her, you bring her back. Now you’ve created a new timeline, here. You see? Timeline B, where Clint never gets the stone because Natasha just vanished, so the snap is never reversed.”

 

Thor’s face darkens. “There’s fourteen million timelines where the snap doesn’t get reversed.”

 

“Uh-uh.” Clint points at him with a beer bottle, and Laura’s fingers squeeze on his shoulder. “No fucking way. You want to create a timeline where some poor version of me doesn’t get my family back, plus Rogers randomly grabs Nat and whisks her away forever? Don’t even think about it.”

 

Steve is a little concerned that the point of debate is that _Clint_ will have lost everything, as opposed to the fact that they’d be creating a new timeline where trillions remain dead. “Okay, wait, focus up.” He taps his fingers on his knee, thinking. “Alright. We cannot take Natasha from a timeline and leave Clint without the stone, we’re all agreed on that.”

 

“We could,” says Rocket. When the room turns to look at him in clear judgement, he shrugs. “What? I’m just saying. We could.”

 

“There’s fourteen million timelines where Thanos wins,” Strange points out. “What’s one more?”

 

Steve is quickly recalibrating the assumed moral compasses of the people he’s drinking with.

 

“Absolutely not.” Clint is firm on this- atta boy. “There’s no way I’m letting you create any version of me where I don’t have Nat _and_ my family.”

 

So Clint’s not firm for the reasons Steve would want, but it’s been a rollercoaster of a day. Emotions are high. It’s fine.

 

“ _And_ ,” says Sam, “maybe we also don’t want to create another timeline where thousands of trillions die. Y’know. Just as an aside.”

 

This is why Sam is Steve’s favourite.

 

“What does the stone need?” Steve asks Clint, a thought occurring. It’s stupid. Possibly stupid enough to work? “Exact wording.”

 

“A soul for a soul,” Clint says moodily, his voice mocking. “That which you love or something.” Then, more harshly: “I don’t know, why’s it matter?”

 

Steve knows it’s a crazy plan, probably more complicated than it’s worth. Is it worth it? He blows a breath out, knowing the answer already. “I have an idea.”

 

===

 

It’s Red Skull at Vormir. Steve doesn’t even give a shit anymore. How did Red Skull get there? Who the fuck even cares. What does it matter. He half-heartedly nods through the speech, eyes sharp on the road.

 

He can make out the two figures making their way up the mountain below. Good. He got here early enough. He hides behind a rock, the duffel bag he travelled with safely at his feet. Waiting, watching as they receive the same instructions from Red Skull that he did.

 

Steve sees the realization cross their faces. He wants to do as little damage as possible, so he waits until there’s nothing left to happen except for Natasha to die. And when he sees that they begin discussing whetherRed Skull is lying, he steps out.

 

Instantly, two weapons are trained on him, and lowered just as fast.

 

“Cap,” Clint says, a little suspicious. “What are you doing here?”

 

Natasha’s eyes are too perceptive. She’s put two and two together, or near enough. She knows one of them was about to die, even if Clint hadn’t yet believed it.

 

“Clint’s family is dead in every single timeline except one,” Steve tells her. She nods, understanding.

 

“Yeah? So?” Clint looks from Steve to Natasha and back. “We know that. Way to give a pep talk, Cap.”

 

“And…” Fuck. Steve sighs. He doesn’t know how to do this. “Natasha doesn’t live in that timeline.”

 

Clint tenses instantly, but Natasha's calm, her eyes peaceful.

 

“It’s okay,” she says.

 

Clint pushes her roughly towards Steve. “Take her back with you! Shit, that’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

 

Natasha’s shaking her head. “If he does that, then you won’t get the stone.”

 

There’s a beat of silence before Clint swears hoarsely. “Fuck. FUCK.”

 

“It’s okay,” Natasha tells him again. “I don’t mind. Let me do it.”

 

“This is a productive discussion,” Steve says, but his heart aches for the Clint and Natasha who had this very discussion in a different timeline, one that’s already branched off. He comforts himself with the serenity he sees in Natasha’s face, the acceptance. “We’re going to create a new timeline though.”

 

“How?” Clint demands.

 

“We’re going to create two timelines where we win. One with Nat dead, and one with Nat alive.”

 

“Which one are we in?” Natasha asks in a low voice.

 

“I’m here, so,” Steve shrugs. “The one you die in-- that’s already happened. It branched off the second I spoke to you guys. We’re making a new one.”

 

Natasha edges closer to the cliff face, and Steve tries to subtly move close enough to her that he can grab her if she makes a suicidal dash for it. She notices, and raises an eyebrow.

 

“You died here, Nat,” he tells her by way of explanation. It’s a trip having her back in front of him. He’s almost scared to touch her.

 

“This is all well and good,” Natasha says after a pause, “but we do need to get the stone.” She looks pointedly down the steep drop.

 

Oh. She thinks Steve’s here to sacrifice himself. Honestly, he’d considered it. And would have, if they hadn’t come up with the alternative.

 

When Steve takes a step towards the rock he’d stashed the duffel bag behind, both Natasha and Clint move in tandem, on the balls of their feet.

 

“Relax.” Steve holds his hands up before one of them tazes him. “I’m not here on a suicide mission.”

 

Neither look like they believe him, and the last thing Steve needs is to create a timeline where both Clint and Natasha throw themselves off the cliff in a misguided attempt to save _him_ , so he shuffles as far away from the edge as he can get.

 

“I’m just getting my bag,” he informs them. He retrieves the duffel from behind the rock, unzips the bag and removes a yowling cat from inside. “I’m told his name is Buster.”

 

“Aww, Busty boy.” Clint rushes forwards to envelope the cat in his arms. “You’re an old man now, huh? I’m surprised you’re still kicking.”

 

“He still lives in the barn,” Natasha supplies. She doesn’t reach out to the cat, even though Steve knows she went to check on all of Clint’s animals after the family (and Clint) disappeared five years ago. “After you left, I tried giving him to a shelter but he ran away.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Clint coos at the cat. “I was going through some shit.”

 

“You’re about to go through some more.” Natasha’s smirking, even though her face is sad, watching Clint petting over the cat’s back.

 

"A soul for a soul." Steve looks at Red Skull, daring him to argue, but the skull-ghost-whatever-the-fuck-thing just nods.

 

Clint buries his face in his cat’s fur. “I can’t believe you brought us a sacrificial lamb, Cap. Really not your style.” Before Steve can reply, Clint straightens. “I mean, I’m not— Buster or Nat? No choice. He’s fifteen years old, he’s only got a year or less left.” He scratches Buster’s neck. “He’d want to do it for the kids, I think.”

 

They bow their heads. Steve’s expecting some more fanfare, but he really shouldn’t have, not from Clint or Natasha. They’re practical to their cores.

 

Clint throws the cat over the edge without another glance. It’s awful, and Steve should feel unbearably guilty, but there’s nothing but relief blooming in his chest.

 

Then Clint disappears. Natasha panics for a second before Steve assures her it’s fine- it’s more than fine, it’s perfect, everything’s going exactly as it should. They trek back down the mountain, waiting for Clint to reappear with the stone.

 

When he does, Natasha waves goodbye to Steve, one hand lifted to activate the time GPS on her wrist.

 

“No!” Steve darts forwards to grab her forearm before she can. “You can’t stay. You have to come with me.”

 

“Why? I can help in the fight.”

 

“If you stay…” Steve struggles to explain. “Right now there’s one split in the timeline. Timeline A, where you’ve died and Clint got the stone- that’s the one I came from, and the one we’re going back to- and Timeline B, this one, where Clint got the stone but you didn’t die. If you stay here, my timeline is still unaffected and we still lost you.”

 

“Okay…” Natasha’s eyes narrow as comprehension dawns. “But this one’s fine. I’m still here, and we have the stone.”

 

“I know.” Steve says. This is the hard sell part. He tries to be vague, even though he knows it’s a losing battle. “We don’t want to risk a butterfly effect by having you be present for the battle. You’d better stay away.”

 

Clint is frowning. “Well now you’re taking my Natasha from Timeline B to Timeline A. How will I get her back?”

 

Natasha folds her arms, eyeing Steve. “You won’t. One timeline- one Clint- has to lose me.”

 

“I lost you too,” Steve says fiercely, irrationally hurt. He’s worked at her side for eleven years. Daily. Doesn’t that count for something? “We all lost you.”

 

“Or,” Clint slips the stone into his suit and points to Natasha, “We can go back up there, and _you_ could lose _me_ instead.”

 

“Oh my god, not this again.” Steve rubs his temples. “Guys, there’s 14 million timelines where we all lose everybody.”

 

“We’re not in those timelines,” Clint says, his voice stone. His hand is straying too close to his quiver for Steve’s liking. “The way I’m parsing this, either _you_ get this Natasha in your timeline where yours has died, or _I_ get her.”

 

“Or,” Steve says helpfully, “You go and do the battle, then send your Steve to go get a Natasha from another timeline.”

 

Both Clint and Natasha look at him with twin expressions of disbelief. That’s pretty much how the rest of the Avengers had looked at him when he suggested it, so Steve waits patiently for them to get over it.

 

Natasha’s shaking her head. “But then that timeline’s Clint…”

 

The archer groans. “My head hurts.”

 

Steve swallows. “One Nat’s gotta die. She’s already died. But just the one. If we do this? I take your Nat, your Steve takes another one, that timeline’s Steve takes another one… on and on forever. We create a domino effect where we get an infinite amount of timelines with the snap reversed and Nat alive, and just one where she dies.”

 

There’s silence for a few seconds.

 

“Well,” Clint runs a hand through his hair, “There’s 14 million where I don’t see the kids, so I guess one isn’t that bad, all things considered.”

 

Natasha doesn’t say anything for a moment, frozen still. Then she lets out a breath. “That’s a lot of… No. It’s not worth it.”

 

“Yes it is,” both Clint and Steve say simultaneously. Natasha rolls her eyes.

 

Clint reaches over to roughly pull her into a brief hug. “I guess it’s goodbye to you.”

 

“It’s okay,” she reassures him quietly, returning the embrace. “You’ll get pretty much the same me back. Three days won’t change anything.”

 

Clint nods stiffly, then lets go. “Seeya, Cap.” He salutes, hits the GPS, and disappears.

 

When he’s gone, Natasha turns to Steve. “We won?”

 

He nods.

 

“Who did we lose?”

 

“Tony.”

 

A flash of pain crosses her features. “I never got to see him.”

 

Steve allows her a few seconds to get her grief under wraps, looking down at the ground until he hears her sigh. Then he touches her for the first time since he got here; he means to just lay a hand on her shoulder, but when he feels her solid and warm and _there_ , he can't help it and finds himself wrapping her in a hug.

 

“Fuck, it’s good to see you,” he breathes. It's a hug for Natasha. A hug for Tony, for Vision, for the ones he can't hold anymore. 

 

Natasha doesn’t say anything, the two of them silently processing the events of the last few days. The last few years, really. They beat Thanos, but Thanos took a lot from them that it would take a long while for any of them to even begin to regain.

 

“Alright.” Natasha pulls away first, swiping furtively at her eyes. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
